How the mighty falls

power wrecks so many men

To wield much power is a silent insanity,
crimson hearts of humans hold shadowy thoughts
within.
Desire's tiny sparks within our gushing blood spills,
impulsion, writhing unto an ethereal spirit: dark still.
So upon our cynical spree, marred judgements we
made vivid.
Halo to waver, glitter then darker, oh see!
Evil slips into human spirits like a bounty of good,
give it a chance, it shall build a mountain of ruins.
So when vicious thirst for power tames humans'
souls.
Upon their cravings, signs of bewitchment hover and
glow,
they'd find no hurdle, desire drives them down a
slope,
ending in their damnation where they float on top of
woes.
Power-leadened human, cloaked in pride,
they'll look down upon us like zillions of ants.
They remain the stars we aimed for in the sky,
to be a falling star to land among our kind.
So their was a glass, its ware holds wine,
their was a lip that crave such wine,
so lips to glass the wine gulps down,
but inside his dear belly a poison spurt out.
So by his very cravings, power or pleasure,
is verily, how the mighty slips and falls.